"You're pretty funny for a chick."

Several entries ago, I mentioned an essay I read about women and humor. Alright-- I feel this is a germaine topic given that I love to make another person laugh, and I love being giving that favor in return. (That was another upshot of the few weeks at the beginning of my recovery: anything that was funny was SUPER funny. Please reference the entry I wrote about casserole humor. I'm telling you-- I nearly soiled myself.) I'd love to really delve into the topic and explore what it is about comedy and humor that is supposed to be strictly a boys' club. But, for now, I am just going to sort of muse upon the subject.

Growing up in my household, the two loudest voices belonged to my sisters. And being able to deliver a funny comment was true currency. I don't consider myself a talented comedienne, but I have a fairly easy time finding at least a smirk in most situations. It also helps to have some very sharp friends-- you're kept on your game. There definitely seems to be a regional tone-- the Detroiters tend to be self-deprecating and a little biting, the Chicagoans are self-deprecating as well but seem to have a hopeful note, and I'm still getting a grip on the Cincinnati flavor. (Suffice it to say that the last trip offered quite a bit of laughing. I heard City Council candidate George Zamary make a quick bid to a voter about to head into the polls, and his last jab was "Remember 'Z' for Zamary! George Zamary!", and I just laughed. So awkward. I have noticed one thing about what's funny in Cincinnati, and I am entirely biased and overgeneralizing, but on the west side, NOTHING is funny. For real. Maybe I talk too fast, or maybe everyone on that side of town can somehow detect my distrust in, and distaste for, Catholicism, or maybe it's because I tend to giggle when I hear a thick Cincinnatian accent-- whatever the reason, I always get the impression that everyone there takes everything a little too seriously. And that they hate me. Whatever.

Sample dialogue #1-- setting: a polling location
"This here is Buckeye Country-- why do you have a Michigan driver's license?"
"Oh, because I'm from Michigan."
"Uh-huh. So, you're one of those Wolverine fans?"
"Well, not really. I'm just from the state of Michigan. I don't really follow football."
"Mm-hmm. Well, this HERE is Buckeye Country."
"Right. Ohio State. Yep. Can I go vote now?"

One thing I've noticed in every city I've visited is that there's a marked different between reactions to a guy being funny and a girl being funny. Girls are conditioned to be objects-- so when they are able to be the subjects, there's a power shift. We are supposed to giggle when a guy makes a joke, but not try to one-up him. A girl with a smart mouth can be really unsettling-- either she's marginalized as just one of the guys, or she's held on a pedestal. It might be an impressive quality but not necessarily an attractive one. There was a little buzz in the press recently that Tina Fey didn't lose her virginity until she was 24 or 25, and that she "couldn't GIVE it away"-- that speaks volumes. Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK.

The essay cites the rocky personal lives of some of history's best comediennes, and the common thread is a feeling of otherness-- that they were on the outside of things, observing and critiquing instead of experiencing life on the inside. I can certainly identify with that-- hello, you are reading proof of it! It's really disappointing and sad that the brilliant and ballsy women mentioned in the essay ever felt excluded, unwelcome, or uncomfortable in their own skin. It stands to reason that those feelings produce some hilarious and biting comedy (Ben Stiller has made a fortune off of it), but the cost is pretty high.